


Part of a Painting

by Icarus (Slickarus)



Series: Do They Think We Want This? [2]
Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Art Museums, Deaf Characters - Freeform, F/M, Romantic twinklings but nothing really concrete, can be read as completely platonic as well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 05:36:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10550956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slickarus/pseuds/Icarus
Summary: About a third of the way through her walk, she finally spotted him. His hair was still damp from the rain outside, and he had just started copying a painting spotted with colorful wildflowers.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RileyAnnaOlson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RileyAnnaOlson/gifts).



> Title from a song of the same name from the musical Edges: A Song Cycle (and it's the best so def check it out).  
> I wrote this as a prompt but also as part of my work called Oh, Who Knows?
> 
> Note: I've never worked at a museum. At the nat gal near where I live, you can apply to the copying program and get permission to sit and paint copies of the art in the gallery.

He was, by far, the youngest copyist.

Martha knew a lot of them because they’d say hello to her when they checked in at the desk to get their easels, or when she passed them on the tour. Most of them were quiet, older, and lived in the area. Those were the regulars, anyway. Art teachers from nearby schools or retired people with a passion and a talent. But, again, the average copyist was at least forty.

But he was young, about her age, she guessed. An art student somewhere nearby, with the right teachers and credentials to get access to the copying program. In the first few weeks, Martha didn’t get to see him very much; he didn’t come during her shifts. She’d never checked him in, so she didn’t even know his name.

But she knew that he was young, he was good at what he did, and he liked to take up space when he painted. The older copyists had neat little work stations, but Martha usually saw him in an emptier gallery where he could spread out a little. It was only ever a problem on a crowded day. Some of the other employees would complain about him and tell him to clean up, but Martha didn’t mind so long as there was no one around. He must have noticed this, because he started coming during her shifts more and more. She began to pass him on every tour she led. He never said hello, but he’d often wave when he saw her leading the tours. By seeing him so much, Martha could tell just how good he was. He focused intensely when he painted, and his copies held something vibrant that not even the originals had. She learned he liked ocean landscapes the best, but he’d paint anything.

She never saw him check in with her, even after he started coming on her times. This frustrated her, because she had so many questions to ask him. She wished that he’d use those soulful eyes to look on her like he did when he was painting.

On one particularly rainy day in April, no one showed up for Martha’s tour, and because there weren’t many people in the museum anyway, she was free to wander the galleries as long as she kept an eye out for strange activity. Nervously, she began to walk her route, hoping that she’d run into him today. About a third of the way through her walk, she finally spotted him. His hair was still damp from the rain outside, and he had just started copying a painting spotted with colorful wildflowers.

“Good morning,” she said after some hesitation. He didn’t respond, so she walked closer until he could see her in front of him. He looked up, smiling and waved. He looked at her for a moment, hesitated, then began signing.

_ “Good morning.” _ Martha grinned.

_ “Your painting looks beautiful.” _ He breathed out a sigh of relief, and looked at his canvas.

_ “I just started, really. No tour today?” _

_ “No, too much rain. I thought I’d look at the galleries.”  _ He patted the bench next to him and looked up at her with questioning eyes. She sat, her leg pressed against his.  _ “I’m Martha.” _

_ “Moritz.” _

_ “Are you a student?” _

_ “Yes, I’m in my third year.” _

_ “Me too. I don’t study painting, though.” _

_ “What do you study?” _

_ “Psychology, and also art history.” _

_ “That’s why you’re here?” _

_ “Yes.”  _ She looked back over at his easel.  _ “Why are you here?” _

_ “What do you mean?” _

_ “I would think young artists wanted to do their own work, not copy other people’s.” _

_ “I love creating, but I’m happiest here. I can turn off my mind and just focus on the way my brush moves against the canvas. I don’t even have to think. Somehow I find that trying to create something out of nothing is harder than copying.” _

_ “What’s your own work like?” _

_ “Big. Right now I’m painting big blue shapes, huge, on giant canvases. Biggest I can find. It’s hard to explain. You really should see it.” _

_ “You should show me.”  _ Moritz blushed.

_ “I should.” _

_ “How about this weekend? I get off work at 6:30 on Saturday.” _

_ “That’s perfect. And we should go eat dinner together. If you want to.”  _ Martha laughed.

_ “I’d love to.” _

**Author's Note:**

> Italics denote sign language.  
> I hope you enjoyed - I love feedback in any form. If you have any other prompts, feel free to comment below or hmu on [tumblr](https://thereinkiss.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/slickarus)


End file.
